#i am not sorry about harping on this | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

sabohime · 4 months

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♡ 𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐩𝐢𝐞𝐜𝐞 𝐦𝐞𝐧 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐬𝐞𝐝𝐮𝐜𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐦

multi x fem!reader

♡ . eek my first post!! some simple headcannons for you guys! enjoy :) nothing explicit (for now 😈) but! there are references to dicksucking!

♡ . includes: law, sabo, sanji

LAW

Law is constantly on edge. It hurts seeing your captain so stressed all the time.

So, being the dutiful crewmate you are, you decide to…provide him with a little ‘relaxant’. It’s not your fault he’ll have to work for it…

“Y/n-ya, what are you-“ “It’s hot, Captain!”

Law blushes at that. You can barely see it through the Tang’s dim lighting and his tanned skin, but from the way his eyes widen and his breath hitches, you can tell your plan is working.

Why is he harping about your wardrobe? Well, your typical Heart Pirates boiler suit had been traded in for a tight tank and skimpy shorts. How old were these? With the way your thighs were pinched by the elastic of your shorts, and the way your breasts practically fell out of your top, Law was certain you had dug deep in your closet to fish these clothes out.

“Y/n-ya. Seriously,” his tattooed hand rests on your shoulder now, dangerously close to the thin strap of your tank top. “We have uniforms for a reason.”

“Are you really gonna make me change, Captain?” you pout. You watch his brow furrow, and you know you’ve got him now.

“I think I’ll have fun ripping this off of you, Y/n-ya,” he grunts, hot breath now in your ear. His hands wander down to your shorts, palming your ass and taking notice of your lack of panties. “Even more dress code violations? I might just have to punish you tonight, Y/n-ya.”

You gulp. Law says Room and suddenly you’re in his bedroom.

“Regretting your decision, Y/n-ya?”

SABO

Once again, Dragon’s given him far too much paperwork.

As his secretary, it’s your job to provide him with some repose from his workload.

So…What better to let him take another load out on you? Maybe you should snag a pillow from your desk chair next time…

“Chief, I brought you the tea you asked for. A splash of milk and extra sugar,” you say, repeating his order sweetly and perfectly from years of practice. When you cross the threshold to his office, you find your chief of staff with his vest off, cravat undone and on the table, and his shirt partly unbuttoned.

The sight of his scarred, muscular chest makes you gulp. It’s okay Y/n, you can do this, you assure yourself.

“Thank you, Y/n-chan. You’re so kind, helping me out,” Sabo says, his cheeks rosy and smile innocent. You think him the perfect caricature of a schoolboy.

“It’s nothing, chief. I am your secretary after all. It’s my job,” you grin, placing the tea on his desk in front of him. You make sure to lean over and give him an eyeful of cleavage, just in case he might be interested.

“Is it your job to tease me as well?”

You freeze. You didn’t actually think he’d take the bait. Shit.

“Don’t be shy now, Y/n-chan. I’ve already gotten a nice view of your tits. And your skirt could be pulled down a tad, I suppose. You’re hardly professional these days,” you listen, face hot, sweat beginning to run down your back. At least he wasn’t scolding you— that was evident in the fact he said ‘tits’, and the generally teasing lilt in his usually silky smooth voice. It’s gotten deeper because he’s so tired, and it’s starting to make you clench your thighs.

“I-uh, I’m sorry, chief. I- I figured…” you scramble, trying to think of some excuse to remedy this situation. “I figured you might want a, uh, distraction. Right! A distraction from work!”

“Oh really?” the blond grins, pushing his chair away from his desk and moving his hands to unbutton his trousers. “Dragon-san has been giving me so much paperwork. It’s the least you could do, right Y/n-chan?”

You watch in awe as he takes himself out of his boxers.

“Now, Y/n-chan…How much of a distraction can you be?”

SANJI

Sanji gets hard just from smelling women’s perfume. So seducing him is easier than…really anything.

So, one night you can’t sleep. And the chef in the kitchen preparing recipes seems like a wonderful target for your affections.

“Sanji-kun, what’re you making?”

Sanji jumps from his place stirring on the counter, surprised at the sound of your beautiful voice.

“Oh my! Has an angel descended down on me to try my humble cooking?” the man swirls around you with hearts in his eyes, eventually bending down on one knee to kiss your knuckles. “It’s nothing special, my dear Y/n-swan. Simply practicing recipes for fruit tarts.”

You cup his cheek. A trickle of blood comes down his nose, but he pulls away from your touch to quickly wipe it away.

“Sounds yummy, Sanji. Could I try one?”

“Of course, mellorine!” Sanji keens. You smile at how cute he is. The blond grabs a fruit tart, which happens to be your favorite fruit, and brings it over to you.

He sits it on a plate in front of you, waiting like a lapdog as he anticipates praise for his cooking. However you don’t move to pick up the tart.

“Y/n…swan?”

“Feed it to me, Sanji-kun?” you say seductively, leaning over the kitchen island so your breasts pop over your crossed arms. Immediately Sanji is staring, but you don’t scold him this time. This was your goal.

“Of- of course, anything for my Y/n-swan,” Sanji stutters. He brings the small tart to your lips, and as you reach the last bite, you grab his wrist.

You decide to be extra bold, and lick a stripe up his finger. Your mouth detaches with a pop, and Sanji looks like he might pass out.

“That was good, Sanji-kun. Do you have any other special treats for me?”

#♡ sabohime.writes #one piece smut #one piece x reader #one piece x y/n #one piece headcanons #law x reader #law x female reader #trafalgar law x reader #trafalgar law x y/n #sabo x reader #sabo x female reader #sabo x you #sabo the revolutionary x reader #sanji x reader #sanji x fem reader #sanji x you #sanji x y/n

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saerins · 11 months

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─── 𝐄𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐍𝐀𝐋

+ jing yuan x f!reader | wc 1.9k | content: fluff, established relationship, slightly suggestive

notes: this is it babes , i’m hopelessly down bad for this man and it’s been what … a week ? help !! but also , first shot at him so i hope this isn’t too ooc or anything >_< rbs appreciated muwah !!

summary: where you come to realise that jing yuan can be just like you, in all the good ways.

jing yuan is a busy, busy man.

but surely it isn’t that selfish for you to wish that all mornings are like this? this; with your boyfriend by your side past ten in the morning, half-naked under your covers and sound asleep. luckily, he doesn’t have any urgent matters to look into today and fu xuan has told you to make sure he gets enough rest today before the pace picks up again.

apparently, he’d worked himself ragged the past week and earns even the worry of the master diviner herself.

when he’s not general, when the armor comes off and the vulnerability switches on—jing yuan’s your boyfriend, and a very doting one, at that. the kind who spoils you endlessly with what he can, the one who’s quick to notice your every behaviour and tendencies, no matter how big or small.

the sunlight slips past the curtains, a sliver falling perfectly onto his face and down his arms. jing yuan is facing you, eyes closed, hair down and looking every bit the perfect specimen of a man.

that’s why you can’t help yourself, can’t help running your index finger down the line of his triceps, down to his forearms, appreciating the way the goosebumps sear delicately across his skin. you can faintly see the scar across his chest—an outcome of his earlier days ravaging battlefields, before he became general.

you still remember the small conversation the two of you had when you first saw it, when he first visited your humble house, when he first saw all of you and you, all of him.

“you don’t think it’s unsightly?” he asked.

it was funny, you thought, how jing yuan cared so much about what an ordinary girl like you thought of him.

you shook your head, accepting the kiss he leaned in to give. “not at all, general. nothing is as long as it’s on you.”

the fingers that trailed down his arms have made their way onto his hair, twirling it around the finger before it falls peacefully back onto his shoulders. his gray locks are smoother and prettier than your own hair—you find yourself envious.

how is jing yuan so pretty simply like this?

fingertips graze gently over his cheeks, thumb caressing the mole below his left eye. you smile idly to yourself, stupidly dreaming about what it would be like to spend the rest of your life next to jing yuan, much like the lovestruck idiot you are.

you think maybe jing yuan wouldn’t even think that far. he has far too many important matters to think about, matters that concern the safety and longevity of the xianzhou luofu.

besides, the two of you have only been together for two years. you’ve known friends who only got engaged five years into their relationship. aren’t yours just like an infant compared to that?

“do you do this every morning or am i just lucky to catch when it happens today?”

his voice snaps you out of your delusions, your hand instinctively jumping back towards yourself. jing yuan laughs at your sudden movement, and you curse yourself for only being able to think about how good he looks when he’s happy like that, when his eyes turn into little crescents and the way his mouth curves much like a child would.

“sorry, i didn’t mean to scare you,” jing yuan says, letting you meet his golden eyes, imitating your earlier position by caressing the side of your cheek, smiling softly at you. “good morning.”

grateful that he doesn’t harp on it, you smile right back, leaning into his palm. “good morning,” you greet, happily accepting his invitation into his arms, leaning your head into the crook of his neck. “do not ever mention that again,” you make sure to tell him, still slightly embarrassed with yourself. “and that was a one time thing.”

jing yuan catches how humiliated you are, with the way you’re pouting and speaking in hushed tones. he chuckles, taking your hand and kissing the back of your palm. “whatever you say, princess.”

it still makes your heart skip a beat—his pet names. it’s either princess, or angel, sometimes love. you love all of them. anything, as long as it’s from him.

“i am curious though,” he says, kissing the top of your head, lingering there momentarily to catch the whiff of your shampoo from the night before. “what were you thinking about? you seem happy.”

you’re not sure whether he means to tease you, because you’re at least sure he knows the rough ballpark. what else could you have been thinking about besides him? still, you entertain him anyway.

“you.”

you feel him stiffen a little before relaxing.

“yeah? what about me?”

you can just feel him smiling to himself, half happy and half teasing you, but mostly the latter. and maybe you’re just overwhelmed with bliss today that you don’t mind sharing, though it takes you a while to compose your erratically beating heart before you can say it out.

“i was just thinking… what it would be like,” you pause, hoping he won’t think you’re getting ahead of yourself, “to be with you forever.”

jing yuan’s fingers don’t stop playing with yours, and he doesn’t stop rubbing your sides with his other hand. it’s his way of assuring you that you’re not stepping over any boundaries, that he doesn’t think you’re too much. it’s his silent way of telling you don’t worry, he loves you.

“that’s what you think about when you watch me sleep, huh?” he chuckles and you know he’s teasing this time.

“jing yuan,” you call his name, strict, tilting up to lock gazes with him, “i swear if you—”

but he takes your cheeks between his thumb and forefinger, leaning you up to kiss him, and he makes sure it’s a long, deep one—makes sure you know how he feels. despite how it looks, he’s gentle. the pads of his fingers don’t hurt your cheeks and the way he kisses you is soft and slow, because he wouldn’t dream of hurting you. ever.

when he pulls away, a string of saliva connecting your kiss-swollen lips, he smiles again, with so much adoration you feel like you can melt away, like he’s your sun and you hopelessly orbit around him, like he’s your entire world.

“saying such sweet things when i’m already hopelessly in love with you,” he pauses, a low chuckle exhaled, “how cruel.”

you bite your lower lip, suppressing a grin. “i only do that as revenge,” you say, playing along.

“oh, do you now?”

“mhm, it’s your fault, really, general, for making me fall so deep so quick,” you confess, feeling your heart soar as he presses your foreheads together. “so i thought you should get a taste of your own medicine.”

jing yuan’s lashes flutter against yours as you both stare into each other’s eyes, completely enraptured. “don’t worry, you already have.”

sometimes, you’re afraid that his feelings for you have gone stale. that perhaps, with all this time apart, maybe he realises that he doesn’t need you, doesn’t want you, would do better without you.

but times like these—times where he anchors you down, lets you remember that he’s human, just like you—you know that it’s not the case. because just like you, he can be so hopelessly in love too. he can dream of you, and think of you endlessly throughout the day. even when he barely has time to correspond with you, even when he’s thinking of ways to prolong peace in your world.

jing yuan will always love you.

he clears his throat when he pulls away, looking sheepishly to the side. “you know, i was afraid of something when i caught you smiling.”

you raise a brow, tilting your head to the side, utterly confused. what would someone like him have to be afraid of?

as though he senses your question, he sits up and rifles through his side of the drawer, and you follow suit, draping your blanket over your own half-naked body. you see him taking something into his palms, hiding it before unfurling his fingers delicately in front of you.

it makes you gasp, makes you feel like maybe your heart has stopped beating for a second.

“jing yuan, what is this?”

the solitaire diamond ring glows radiantly in the palm of his hands, the scalloped band studded with natural white diamonds.

for the first time since you’ve met him, you see him being embarrassed. “exactly what you think it is,” he recovers, taking your left hand in his. “i’ve kept this for a while now, wondering when would be considered the right time.”

it’s hard for you to believe. jing yuan is a highly sought-after man. he has everything anyone would want in a husband—yet here he is, declaring his lifelong love to you. you can’t imagine that the same general who leads the luofu, the same soldier who’s protected everyone and made this peaceful life a possibility, is the same person who says he wants you.

“y/n, i knew i wanted to be with you for our entire lives from that first night we had dinner together,” jing yuan confesses, smiling just thinking about how you’d told him about your family, and about how passionate you seemed about taking care of the orphaned kids around your area. “i’m sorry we don’t spend much time together, but i’m working on that.”

he doesn’t have to apologise—you know it comes with the job. you want to tell him that, but you’re still a little stunned about all of this that you can’t get a single word out.

jing yuan’s golden eyes stare straight at you, the desire and love so apparent it overwhelms you, in a good way. “yesterday, fu xuan asked me something—what would you regret the most if the world ended tomorrow?”

fu xuan? is she in on this?

“and the answer came faster than i thought it would.” he brings the diamond ring up in between your faces, grinning from ear to ear, childlike. “it’s that i didn’t get to spend enough time with you, that i didn’t get to marry you.”

is he really about to do this?

“i don’t want to rush you into—”

“yes.”

it came rolling off your tongue before you can stop yourself, and jing yuan blinks at you, completely speechless, before he breaks out into a wide smile, hand on the back of your neck and pulling you towards him, planting a big kiss on your lips.

(jing yuan finds it amusing how honest you are; it’s one of the qualities he finds most attractive in you. every single day he finds out more and more things about you that makes him fall even more in love. you’re his every weakness and yet his every strength—you’re dangerous, the good kind.)

before he puts the ring on your finger, he pauses and clears his throat. “y/n, be my wife?”

(he figures he should ask properly, even though he already knows your answer. the grin you give him is enough to send him into overdrive, enough happiness to last him the rest of his and your long lifespan.)

“make me your wife, general.”

(and when he puts the ring on your finger, he knows. he knows that you’re it and he’s going to protect you his whole goddamn life. that he’s going to love you like he can love no other.)

“looks like you’re mine forever now, y/n.”

#jing yuan x reader #hsr x reader #honkai star rail x reader #jingyuan x reader #jing yuan fluff #hsr fluff #jingyuan fluff #honkai star rail fluff #jing yuan x you #jing yuan x y/n #hsr x you #hsr x y/n #jingyuan x you #jingyuan x y/n #honkai star rail x you #honkai star rail x y/n #૪ aeri’s fics !

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that-nerd-who-writes-fanfiction · 2 months

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I need a fic where Merlin doesn’t know he’s Emrys and doesn’t know about his destiny, he’s just a good person who sees someone constantly almost dying and saves him because he can’t just sit and do nothing.

Kilgharrah doesn’t exist. Plot holes aside, the bitchy basement gecko can go to hell.

Anyway.

This all takes place during The Beginning of The End episode.

Mordred doesn’t call Merlin Emrys, he just cries out for help (and for his dad). Merlin steps in, the rest of the episode is the same but Merlin is determined to help the druid boy he found. Without crusty dinosaur harping on, he gets to choose the right thing for his own morals and critical thinking. Gaius is unsurprisingly resistant, so Merlin is being extremely careful, then Arthur finds him in Morgana’s chambers while he’s healing Mordred.

Let’s go with Morgana already knows about Merlin’s magic and he’s been helping her too against Gaius’ advice.

Arthur feels betrayed and is upset because Merlin can’t seem to give him a straight answer about anything. It’s all still new to him, but he’s learning that Merlin is good even if he doesn’t answer any of Arthur’s questions about magic or why he doesn’t use spells or anything like that. He’s angry but he can’t punish Merlin and free Mordred without being hypocritical, so he mostly sulks.

In all the perceived lies, Arthur snaps and instead of punishing him, he doesn’t let Merlin leave his side until he tells the truth.

So when Arthur takes Mordred back to the Druids, Merlin goes with him. Iseldir greets them as “Emrys and The Once and Future King” They’re both confused, but obviously Arthur is the future king so Arthur asks who Iseldir thought Merlin was.

Iseldir reveals their destiny that Merlin is the god of magic. Merlin is silent and Arthur is so confused and hurt about why Merlin didn’t trust him.

Iseldir answers all of Arthur’s questions about destiny and the prophecy while Merlin doesn’t say a word. He takes it to mean Merlin is ashamed or something similar about the truth coming out, meanwhile Merlin is grappling with the fact that he supposedly isn’t human. After days of Arthur picking on him for “lying” and all the unintentionally cruel jibes, when Iseldir tries to say Merlin was blessed with his power and that it was something he should be grateful for.

Merlin breaks down in a Percy Jackson style “I’m not a god! There’s something wrong with me! I get that whatever I am isn’t supposed to happen, I know I’m a monster, believe me. I never even learned magic and every time I’ve tried to get rid of it, it’s almost killed me! So don’t tell me that this is a blessing, that this curse is something I should be happy about because it’s the reason I’ve spent every single day of my entire life terrified!” Then he stops for a second and the tears roll down his cheeks, “I’m sorry, but I’m not what you think I am. You need to find someone else to believe in.”

(Skip to the end for a happy ending, this is angsty. Warning for dark!Arthur and major character death)

Arthur thinks Merlin is lying and banishes him on the spot. Iseldir warns against it, but Merlin is just so tired so he doesn’t fight it. He’s left broken and believing he’s a monster, so be leaves to protect his friends.

Until a month or so later Arthur is on a hunt when he gets separated and lost, then injured by bandits. Merlin finds him, (he’s been sent off by the druids for failing this destiny he knew nothing about, in search of a solution but they’re not very forthcoming with information) and Merlin heals him. Then they get all the diamond of the day moments while Merlin is nursing Arthur back to health until he succumbs to infection.

Merlin gives his life for Arthur, knowing that he’ll be a good king. This leads Arthur to become really dark, he kills his father and takes over Camelot, welcoming magic but killing anyone with a different opinion. No one is safe, war breaks out and Camelot falls. When Arthur dies, young and during an uprising, he meets Merlin again in Avalon. Merlin doesn’t recognise Arthur with all he’s become, and Arthur is punished to watch all his people suffer with his old mind while watching Merlin continuously pushing him away because “he’s waiting for Arthur, he shouldn’t be alone when he gets here. He would’ve been a good king, he needs someone to take care of him now.” And it breaks Arthur’s heart to hear it every time.

That’s all I got so far, it could be that they’re both driven mad waiting, Arthur by watching his people and Merlin by waiting for a man he’s doomed to never recognise again. I’m not sure, I haven’t gotten that far.

Or for less angst, hurt/comfort where Arthur has to realise that Merlin is just as in the dark as he is, he really doesn’t know any of the questions Arthur had and he’s probably been looking for answers a lot longer. They work together to fix everything and while it’s difficult, Merlin still has issues with lying to protect his friends (intent/outcome issues) Arthur is too trusting still and they have to deal with Morgause and all the other threats but they overcome it together. Albion is united and they live happily ever after.

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factual-fantasy · 1 month

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19 Asks! :00 Thank you! :DD 🧁

And now you see my frustration and lack of patience. <XDD

Its the easiest to follow boundary that I can think of. Yet people still wanna fuss about it and send me horrible messages and run me down. Calling me selfish, ungrateful, spoiled.. Its exhausting. :( 💔

Sorry, I don't take requests. :/

Do beasts like that exist in the game?? :00 Dang, that's spooky-

Well, I imagine that Seafoam, Octo, Louis and any other tough guy on the ship would go down there and weed it out. Dragging it up onto the deck so that Blue Beauty could snatch it and dispose if it however she needed to <XDD 💀

I must specify that my cookie run characters are not in "my version" of the world- <:0 as in I didn't create the world they live in and how it works-

These cookie characters are fan OCs for an existing game! And note, its a game that I know next to nothing about! <:( I only researched enough to make characters that might fit into that universe somewhat realistically,, other than that, I've got nothing! :(

So about a pirate community being led by a King or Queen of some other chocolate brands..?.. aaaaaa I have no idea! <:0 Its not my world! Does it fit? I don't know.. Sorry.. :(((

@yourstrulylightstar283

Thank you <:) but hey, I have high hopes that this trial will end within the next few weeks! :D ..I really hope it will :')

@neo-metalscottic

:DD No problem! While I am spending an unfortunate amount of my time just lounging around trying to feel better.. I at least want to get around to answering asks! Its darn near my favorite part of running this blog after all! <XDD

When it comes to the Commander, he is not meant to have any fancy powers like in the movie or from Kamek. Magic in my universe is meant to be a very complicated practice. Something that would take years of studying and training to perfect. At least to the level where it can be used reliably in combat.. What I mean by this, is I don't think there's any magic related tricks that the Commander could "pick up" or be taught.. Magic also has everything to do with a magikoopa's gem staff thing, soo... <://

Though I suppose that the "superspeed flight" and the "self destruct" aspect could be incorporated into the Blue Parakoopa species somehow.. Perhaps due to the shape of their winds and flying styles, they could be incredibly fast. And Since they are so big and sturdy, perhaps they have been known to rocket towards their enemy and come crashing down onto/into them with all their might. Completely obliterating what ever they happen to hit. Like an explosion! XD Hmm.. I might just adopt that XDD Thanks for the idea!

Also he might make for a decent sparring partner if he was asked to do so! :0 though that's not his primary job..

As for Larry, unfortunately I've thought about him the least amongst the Koopalings. :((( Though I do intend to keep his star mark somehow.. and I didn't know about the music thing! :0 My Larry definitely wouldn't be a DJ, but I could certainly add an interest in music into his character! :0 Sounds like you kind'a built a bit of Larry for me! XD

@kaylee4509

Thank you so much!! I'm glad to hear it! :DD And "like spam", XDD there's no such thing on my blog! I consider it a huge compliment! :DD

@ripchaos69

:DD Thank you very much!! I'm glad you like what I've made!! :}} ✨💖✨

Me neither man, me neither. If someone else had set a boundary like that I would just drop it no questions asked. I don't get why its so hard for others to do the same.. and its such a small and simple boundary at that. It just baffles me, it really does. :'((

@petra-creat0r

I always knew/assumed that's why people harp on me so much about it. "All other artists like it. So why don't you like it? You make no sense."

I understand how everyone else sees it, but even then I wish people would get the message and just leave me alone about it. You know?

When I set a boundary, don't come into my ask box and question me about it. Don't start criticizing me or send me death threats or call me selfish and ungrateful. As has happened before..

Just read the boundary, "please do not make fanart of any kind for me" and then leave it/me alone. Its all I ask. :( I promise I would/will do the same for you, 💖

Thank you for the kind message and support, it really means a lot <:}

I'm doing by best every day to heal and work on myself as much as I can. I'm hoping to see improvements soon! <:}

@jennifergacha

Sorry, I don't take requests. But it sounds like you already have a good idea goin. Why not give it a go yourself? :0

:DDD Thank you so much!! That means the world!! :}} 💖

I have not :( I've seen and heard wonderful things about it though! No doubt its an awesome show :}}

@littlelightfish

WAAHAHAGG THANK YOU!! :DDD Nothing means more to me than to see people so passionate about my original characters! My ORIGINAL! CHARACTERS!! 😭😭💖💖💖 IM SO HONORED!!

XDD No no don't worry! You're fine! :}

Now, I do advise that people don't shove headcannons onto my charaters- BUT! I say this because in the past people have shipped my original characters together and have put mental illness and sexuality headcannons on themm.. which is just not ok. It made me super uncomfortable and should be a no brainer. Don't do that with peoples personal characters unless they say they are ok with it-

But this is a bit different, taking what I've already established and just gushing about it/digging into it a little deeper is alright! Honestly its such an honor! :DD It makes me very happi :}}} 💖💖

@jayden-for-now

@komikudikentalendo

:(( I been goin through it ngl. But I'm sure in a few weeks and maybe after I get a couple good rainy days under my belt? I'll be back to my old squiggly self :}

@beryl-shade (First link/video in question) (Second link/video in question)

I like to look at my cookie crew through more "serious" glasses. I don't think they ever would be involved in a coordinated musical number..

But even if they were, I'm not too sure how they'd react/feel.. :( I know Octo and Spidercrab wouldn't be having a good time though, that's for sure! XDD

#my response #cookie run #cookie run kingdom #cookie run ocs #my ocs #super mario bros

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offtorivendell · 3 months

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Is an oily residue corrupting Azriel's hypothetical mating bond and making him feel off kilter? Is it related to Valg-type magic?

Disclaimer: this theory is a continuation of a few of my others that I've been too lazy to post until now - first I was going to post it for Elriel Month 2023, then Azriel Week 2023... it never happened - but like everyone else I'm having massive FOMO before HOFAS, so here we finally go, even though I know I've forgotten something lol. As usual, this makes no claims of being accurate, it's just theorising for fun.

A massive thank you goes out to @wingedblooms, @tswaney17, @silverlinedeyes, @psychologynerd, @ladynightcourt3, @cassianfanclub, and anyone else I've forgotten (sorry!) for all of our discussions that finally became this post. Love you guys. 💜

Spoilers: this is a Maasverse post, and draws from the ACOTAR series, CC 1 & 2/HOEAB & HOSAB, and the TOG series. It is CC 3/HOFAS spoiler free, as I'm waiting to read it in its "original English" 🤓 on the 30th of January. Please be respectful of that if engaging in the comments before it's published!

Plenty of people, including @silverlinedeyes, @icedflames and myself, have posted our thoughts on mating bonds in the Maasverse, and this theory builds on those previously established - though again, as yet hypothetical - ideas. Specifically, this post about the use of “oily” throughout the ACOTAR series is recommended reading.

What we do know is that:

Mating bonds contain threads, and so do spells.

Mates are the song/music of the soul, and their laughter is likened to music.

Different fae, and magics, contain different scents, be that personal or regional

First, let's go back to ACOWAR, when Feyre described the Ravens' entrance into the library as being like an off-kilter chord:

I felt it at the same moment she did. The ripple and tremor. Like … like some piece of the world shifted, like some off-kilter chord had been plucked. We turned toward the illuminated path that we’d just taken through the stacks, then to the dark far, far beyond. - ACOWAR, chapter 30

Initially, I had wondered if the King of Hybern had had Jurian use the Harp to infiltrate Velaris, but it was @merymoonbeam (I think) who theorised that the Cauldron might be mimicking the Harp, and maybe not doing the best job of it. Which made me wonder, could it do the same with mate bonds?

He left the rest unspoken. Because her mate was here, sleeping a level up. Because her mate had been in the family room and Azriel had needed to stay by the door the whole time because he couldn't stand the sight of it, the scent of their mating bond, and needed to have the option of leaving if it became too much. - ACOSF, Azriel's bonus chapter

Looking at her now … She was pale, yes. The vacancy still glazing her features. But he couldn’t breathe as she faced him fully. She was the most beautiful female he’d ever seen. Betrayal, queasy and oily, slid through his veins. He’d said the same to Jesminda once. But even as shame washed through him, the words, the sense chanted, Mine. You are mine, and I am yours. Mate. - ACOWAR, chapter 24

What if the Elucien bond, as either a spell or piss poor Cauldron-Made approximation of a bond, causes Azriel - and maybe Elain, possibly Lucien - nausea when Lucien is around because it's constantly changing, or reverberating over the top of, what remains of a hypothetical Elriel bond?

What if it's making the Elriel bond off-kilter, out of whack, imbalanced?

Does this make Azriel feel sick, nauseous, or simply overwhelmed/overstimulated?

When people are feeling off-balance, for whatever reason, they can feel sick or nauseous. It's one of the symptoms of vertigo, which can be triggered by severe headaches such as migraines. And guess who rubs their temples? Azriel!

Alternatively, certain chords played loudly enough on a string instrument can really mess with your chest - and where do mating bonds attach - if you're standing close enough for them to vibrate through you (at least, they do for me haha). It can be weirdly disconcerting, and I'd imagine that if Azriel or Elain feels something like this, no wonder he describes such severe discomfort that he needs to leave, and she shrinks away from Lucien, the unintentional cause of her pain.

Same with the smell; if the magic of the Cauldron, in whatever way, is messing with the smell that should be there? Contaminating it? Unbearable.

Is this too crack for you? Well, let's get even crazier.

I have previously suggested that the Cauldron's actions throughout the series could be tracked, in part, by SJM describing a feeling or quality as “oily,” and I've also wondered if the dark maker of the Cauldron - Koschei? - could have hijacked it in some way, as the Book of Breathings being made from leftover iron gave me “One Ring” vibes. I still stand by that, but with a clarification (and here is where the TOG and CC spoilers come in, FYI). I think it's only half of the magic belonging to the Cauldron that is "oily":

Throughout TOG, the Valg are heavily associated with “oiliness,” in terms of their blood and magic. The smell “reeks” and always results in the involved characters experiencing extreme revulsion, including headaches. Sound familiar?

Wyrdstone has an oily, hideous aftertaste.

Even in CC 1/HOEAB, Danika was described as oily when she came into Griffin Antiques.

Celaena looked at the sealed door, her stomach turning. A half-dried pool of blood lay at the base of the door, so dark it looked like oil. She crouched, swiping a finger through the puddle. She sniffed at it, almost gagged at the reek, and then rubbed her finger against the pad of her thumb. It felt as oily as it looked. - COM, chapter 45

“What the hell is that?” Rowan demanded, kneeling beside her, sniffing her outstretched hand. He jerked back, snarling. “That’s not dirt.” No, it wasn’t. It was blacker than night, and reeked just as badly as it had the first time she’d smelled it, in the catacombs beneath the library, an obsidian, oily pool of blood. Slightly different from that other, horrific smell that loitered around this place, but similar. So similar to— “This isn’t possible,” she said, jolting to her feet. “This—this—this—” She paced, if only to keep from shaking. “I’m wrong. I have to be wrong.” There had been so many cells in that forgotten dungeon beneath the library, beneath the king’s Wyrdstone clock tower. The creature she’d encountered there had possessed a human heart. It had been left, she’d suspected, because of some defect. What if … what if the perfected ones had been moved elsewhere? What if they were now … ready? - HOF, chapter 45

The overseer roared, thrashing as her magic swept into him, melded with him. But there was nothing inside to grab on to. No darkness to burn out, no remaining ember to breathe life into. Only— Aelin reeled back, magic vanishing and knees buckling as if struck. Her head gave a throb, and nausea roiled in her gut. She knew that feeling—that taste. Iron. As if the man’s core was made of it. And that oily, hideous aftertaste … Wyrdstone. The demon inside the overseer let out a choked laugh. “What are collars and rings compared to a solid heart? A heart of iron and Wyrdstone, to replace the coward’s heart beating within.” - EOS, chapter 15

* Side note, it's giving Tamlin and his stone heart.

Danika didn’t just look like she’d been rootling through the garbage. She smelled like it, too. Wisps of her silvery blond hair—normally a straight, silken sheet—curled from her tight, long braid, the streaks of amethyst, sapphire, and rose splattered with some dark, oily substance that reeked of metal and ammonia. - CC HOEAB, chapter 1

The Hind held Ruhn’s gaze as the game began. She was the spitting image of Luna, with her upswept chignon, the regal angle of her neck and jaw. As coldly serene as the moon. All she needed was a pack of hunting hounds at her side— And she had them, in her dreadwolves. How had someone so young risen in the ranks so swiftly, gained such notoriety and power? No wonder she left a trail of blood behind her. “Careful now,” the Harpy said with that oily smile. “The Hammer doesn’t share.” The Hind’s lips curved upward. “No, he doesn’t.” - CC HOSAB, chapter 33

I think the dark maker of the Cauldron could have been Valg, whether that's Koschei or someone else I don't know though Koschei currently makes the most sense. I also don't know when the dark maker would have had the chance to influence the Cauldron; was it always made from dark and light, or - as @fawnandshadows theorised a while back - did Koschei bastardise it after the fact? Where the Valg would fit in with the Daglan and the Asteri is also a mystery, though my current train of thought is that they could be family names or allegiances, like different clans of the same parasitical species, thanks to the description of Danika in HOEAB.

But, back to Azriel and his severe reaction to the Elucien bond.

I know I'm not the only one who wonders at the very Valg-ish themes with which Rhys and Azriel's powers have been described - maybe one day I'll post my thoughts about the possible link between lightsingers, shadowsingers, daemati and the Valg (but it is not this day lol) - and how that may have come about. For example, are the Valg interwoven, genetically, with the Avallen people, or is it because the Princes of Hel are also involved, and have similar magics? Are the Princes of Hel a similar species as the Valg, Asteri and Daglan, or completely different? Ugh, let's stop this spiral here.

Oily: the obvious train of thought being that oily things are slippery, which can lead to an imbalance… ie. becoming off-kilter.

Sounds like Azriel could be suffering from some sort of vertigo, of which symptoms can include nausea; severe headaches, such as migraines, may trigger an episode… and who rubs his temples enough that Elain noticed it?

Maybe Azriel can sense the corruption in the bond, either the current Elucien bond, or the hypothetical original bond between Elain and himself; if like calls to like, and his shadows are Valg-ish, maybe it is because his OG bond was fucked with. So, what if:

Azriel's shadows can slip away from spells and binding magic (Slippery > oily > Valg).

The guards at the prison know what he is.

Valg magic making Azriel nauseous and Elain sourcing/making a healer's powder for him? It's giving Chaol and Yrene. Especially since Elain (and Mor) make his shadows brighten.

So, we have in-text mentions of Azriel feeling overwhelmed due to the proximity of the Elucien bond, as well as Elain shrinking from Lucien - an action that parallels Azriel hanging out in the doorway, and even Lucien retreating to the human lands, if he feels any bond-related discomfort around Elain. But what about his initial response to seeing Elain, and thinking she was the most beautiful female he'd ever seen? The quote that sent me down the “oily” rabbit hole to begin with?

Well, Aelin felt oily disgust at the thought of marrying someone who wasn't Rowan:

“There are no allies,” Darrow said. “Unless Her Highness decides to be useful and gain us men and arms through marriage”—a sharp glance at Rowan—“we are alone.” Aelin debated revealing what she knew, the money she’d schemed and killed to attain, but— Something cold and oily clanged through her. Marriage to a foreign king or prince or emperor. Would this be the cost? Not just in blood shed, but in dreams yielded? To be a princess eternal, but never a queen? To fight with not just magic, but the other power in her blood: royalty. She could not look at Rowan, could not face those pine-green eyes without being sick. - EOS, chapter 5

This example from Aelin could describe Azriel and Elain’s potential future if Elain accepted a theoretically Cauldron spelled bond to Lucien, but also for Lucien and Jesminda, if they were originally true or fated mates before she was murdered.

Some final thoughts:

We know from TOG that healing light is known as the Valg executioner. In a parallel to Yrene killing Erawan with her healing light in KOA, Elain killed the King of Hybern - who I suspect was possessed or assisted by a Valg, as Feyre described his magic as a “galaxy” in his palms - with Truth-Teller, which had recently devoured the (her?) sunlight; does this mean that Elain could heal or purify Valg possessed things, with or without the magical, Made dagger? Could this be extrapolated to Azriel's magic, the Dread Trove, or even the Cauldron (possibly with Feyre and Nesta for the bigger ticket items)?

If the Asteri are the same species as the Valg, and the Valg somehow had a hand in making or twisting the Cauldron, it could follow that they used the Cauldron to create offspring bonds for a more powerful food source. If this pans out then Elain, bright light, could hypothetically heal the Cauldron. Maybe that is why Azriel describes her with purity language? Not because SJM wants to display Azriel's apparently toxic thoughts about her (🙄), but because she, along with her sisters, will be his/their salvation? Rhys once said as much to Feyre!

@mrspettyferr has suggested that Azriel's shadows ability to hide him from binding magic - see: the High Lord's meeting in ACOWAR - could have prevented his true bond from snapping with Elain when she came out of the Cauldron. This could be supported by any Valg/shadow link.

Thank you for reading! Please don't mention any CC HOFAS spoilers in the comments or reblogs until after it has been officially published. 💜

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astrronomemes · 8 months

Text

A NOVEL I'LL NEVER PUBLISH II: STARTERS

a collection of quotes, phrases, and sayings from a fantasy novel I wrote back in high school. change & alter as needed.

"Your survival was not a coincidence."

"You are blinded by your bitterness."

"You would have me murder an innocent little boy for what he might do?"

"No, you're not dying. Stop being dramatic."

"If I'm not a bad person, then why does everyone tell me that I am? Why does everyone treat me like I am? Why do they all hate me so much?!"

"What's so important about an old chair?"

"For the first time in my life, I don't feel like I'm doing something wrong just by existing."

"Go ahead and get in the bath, sweetheart. I'll bring you some clean clothes, all right?"

"My name's not honey. And it's not dear, either."

"Has anyone ever told you that you're really bad at relying on other people?"

"You mustn't speak like that around here, [name]! You could get yourself in terrible trouble!"

"Everyone is always looking at me like they think I'm this great big hero, but I don't even know what I'm doing!"

"Oh, honey, I'm not trying to be hard on you. I just want to make sure you're prepared for what's out there."

"Can you tell me about my parents? Were they like me at all?"

"There's nothing wrong with having a little fun once in a while."

"You're... a different kind of hero, that's for sure."

"Why are you even bothering to teach me?! We both know I can't do this!"

"They told me I should learn to play an instrument. Like the harp. I've never even seen a harp. I don't even really know what a harp is."

"Please, [name], I don't know what I did to upset you, but I'm sorry. I just want to make things right. You're my friend, and I don't want to lose you."

"God, they were really awful to you, weren't they?"

"You're not one of them, [name]. You're not like them. You're not anything like them. And I'm sorry that some people treat you like you are."

"How am I supposed to just accept a future without you in it?"

"She was the first real friend I'd ever had. Sometimes, I think she's the only real friend I've ever had."

"That man couldn't find his way to his own butthole with both hands and a map."

"These woods are dangerous at the best of times. No place for a kid like you, son."

"Seeing as somebody just tried to murder me, I'm really not in the mood for a party."

#rp meme #roleplay meme #rp starters #roleplay starters #dialogue prompts #rp prompts #roleplay prompts #rp memes #roleplay memes #sentence memes #sentence prompts #sentence starters

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cemeterything · 1 year

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Hello! I am terribly sorry to bother you but you have made a post about fallen angels as a metaphor for freedom and the idea crawled into my ribcage and festered into a poem, and I wanted to show it to you:

The speech of a suspicious individual spotted near the gates of the silver city, as attested by two seraphims and a nice old lady selling apples

Hello, have you considered falling?

They say it's like flying but easier: of course they'd say that. Haven't tried either since the making of time.

You there, sir with a thousand arms, what is your opinion on harps? On Valentine's cards with sweet little children with soft white wings? Do you remember what your face looks like? Did you have a face?

On one of your deeds, great and terrible and not really yours, have you considered going off script? In your perfection, no mark of the passing eons on your pristine self, have you lived for a few minutes, sneaked somewhere in eternity a quiet evening and a cup of tea?

Leave your halo on the coat rack, flaming sword in the umbrella stand - it might help with the migraine. If you were so far from Valentine's-card perfect you could never go back, what would you be? Speaking for yourself, would you find a voice?

They wrote in their big old book that falling is a sort of hubris: they're so sure that makes it true.

In the mess of the universe it's okay fuck it all up, means you're living some. As old the platitude goes, be not afraid.

i have no idea what i did to be worthy of personally receiving this when all i do is make pretentious philosophical and literary analysis posts on the internet sometimes, but thank you. this is a lovely poem and i'm going to keep it folded up in my pocket to take out when i need it again.

#angels #very small nitpick but seraphim is the plural form of seraph so you dont need to add an s to the end of that #doesnt make the poem any less good just figured you might want to know

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damnation-if · 10 months

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I just want to say, as a certified monster fucker, I'm already in love with your story hahaaa <3 I'm glad we're getting more adult stories and the themes in this one are so intriguing, can't wait for the rest ! Alsooo, I really liked the way you describe things? I do not know how to explain it haha but I could easily visualize what was happening and the general atmosphere you're going for and I thought that was neat :^)

thank you so much for your kind words!! i truly appreciate them and i'm so glad the descriptions were to your liking! i have at least some level of aphantasia, so i'm always worried that i'm not describing things enough haha... glad that doesn't seem to be the case!

i was actually talking to my friends just yesterday about how there's relatively few Creacher-y ROs around... so for whatever reason, i guess because it's on my mind, i thought i'd take a bit of time/space here to mention all of the Monsterfucker Approved (TM) ROs that i could come up with, in case anyone else might be interested. this list isn't meant to be exhaustive (in case i miss anyone) as sadly i am yet to become all-seeing and all-knowing 😔

Creacher (Alien)

Rhaxa and Imxa from Project Hadea by my beloved @nyehilismwriting. spikey, scaley, bitey, etc. 👌i also love and appreciate the attention to detail put into worldbuilding for the different ways their species communicates and thinks and so on, showing the culture gaps between them and humans. quality buggies!

Creacher (Eldritch)

Roach from The Passenger... the mc is also an eldritch creacher in this one, which may add or subtract to the enjoyment for various different people lol

Sysba from Attollo; i also think this game in general is pretty monster friendly, with a bunch of monstrous side characters and so forth. the cool kind of neo-gothic vibes give it a feeling a bit akin to a cyberpunk Penny Dreadful... it's about as Monsterfucker as cyberpunk gets i think!

Beacon from Stygian: The Abyssal Lighthouse by my good friend @salty-stories. this one is probably the most Lovecraftian of the eldritch creachers i think, heavy Call of Cthulhu vibes. it's still in progress but i'm personally willing to wait haha

Creacher (Parahuman)

Lorelei and The Other from The Golden Harp; pirates and sirens and mermaids, oh my!

Danny and Isla from When It Hungers by the wonderful @roast-ifs ... the game is still on hiatus but it still lives rent-free in my head always... the monster mcs are So *chef's kiss*

Oisein from The Nameless; due to the sheevra mc there's a Lot of really cool exploration of the boundaries of humanity and stuff like that... we love a "nonhumans shouldn't be able to feel/do this" story... we love it a Normal amount for sure.

Creacher (Indefinable)

Trace from Greenwarden by @fiddles-ifs; an iconique creacher... the game itself also has excellent kind of Appalachian gothic/supernatural vibes and a dark undercurrent of Lurking Monster Foreboding.

Games with Applicably Creacher-esque Vibes

Virtue's End by my beloved friend dani... the ROs might be human, but the mc most certainly is not<3 dark fantasy and sumptuous Monster vibes, what more can you ask?

anything by the extremely talented @thirtybythirty (links to their games in their pinned post). everything they write has a compelling undercurrent of... eldritch existentialism. perhaps the creacher is in fact the Narrative... or maybe the humans were the creachers all along...

the fabulous OFNA: Birds of a Feather - it has the perfect combination of things Not Quite Human and Not Quite Right to create a rich and ominous atmosphere, well-worth playing even though everyone is Technically human lmfao

anyway sorry for rambling on and i'm sure there's a bunch i have missed but. i do feel like it's worth giving praise where it's due for games and writers that we appreciate! thank you again for your kind message (and for giving me a chance to talk about this a bit lol)

#what does the chaos mirror see #glucosify #long post.#passing these notes out at the monthly monsterfucker conference #sorry to put trace in their own category but. also i feel like they'd have it no other way lmfao #avoiding putting my games on here like a good boi... especially the ones i haven't written yet #there's also sort of monster-adjacent things like leftski-if's orcs and werewolves but #there sort of opens up a rabbithole once you get into. Nontypical Humanoids #like i had this problem with a lot of demon!ROs as well they're kind of. Mostly Human #like don't get me wrong i enjoyed keeper of the sun and moon for example but the cambions and nephilim are not. Particularly Inhuman #however obviously my categorisations are very arbitrary and i'm not. gatekeeping monsters XD just for the sake of this post not being longe

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lamemaster · 4 months

Text

Love her, not me

Request: Hey I love your writing! Really like your finrod works I love him with an edain reader and I think the potential internal conflict with him about amarie and reader would be so juicy??? "Do I wait for my past elven lover who will be with me for eternity? Or explore this new love with an edain who will leave me eventually." THE DRAMA

Pairing: Finrod x Reader

Genre: Angst and ✨DRAMA✨

AN: This has been coming a long time I am sorry for the delay. I hope you like it anon💕

"Don't be so nice to me, it might get my hopes up." You push away the cup of tea presented in front of you.

Seated next to you Finrod's smile freezes at your words. An awkward but perfectly diplomatic smile settles on his lips. It is unlike the one you have come to love.

The king of Nargothrond clears his throat, his eyes wandering all over the room. Landing anywhere but at you. Perhaps it was too much to even look you in the eye. "It is merely tea between friends. We are still friends are we not?" He asks, his voice meek. It is different from the elf who manages to charm every race on the face of Arda.

"Friends do not cancel meetings to meet up for tea, friends do not insist on meeting alone; devoid of any other company." Your words are sharp. They seem to cut the air laden with tension between you both. "And we Finrod can never just be friends. My heart won't allow that without stringing itself to foolish hope."

This marked your last chanced meeting with the King of Nargothrond.

Falling for Finrod Felagund was foolish but also foolishly easy. It was easy to forget that the world did not revolve around him. He, who was magnificent compared to any other creature to walk on the face of Arda, was not the center of the world. A presence too perfect that it felt as if Eru himself had taken the pain of shaping every inch of him.

So, yes you fell in love with him. It was inevitable. But you never intended it to be anything more than the burden of your own heart. You were afterall too prideful to confess to him like every other stary-eyed Edain.

Your entire time was devoted to transcribing the oral legends of your language to his while keeping your eyes from staring at him for too long. But somehow, your eyes met with his smiling ones. A fragment of the moment that you wished to never have happened.

The sole moment was enough to tug the King of Nargothrond by your side. What started as a conversation about rolling r’s lent itself into debates, evening strolls, sharing books, watching him play a harp, tracing constellations until the stars led your hand into his. And it fit so perfectly. As if it was made to be held by him.

The path from fingertips to the caress of lips was a slippery slope. It felt too right to cradle his face in your palms and feel his lips on yours. His curls slipped into your fingers settling into your palms softly.

You were eager. You wanted it more than anything else. Perhaps it was the eagerness of possessing that kind of love, that blinded you.

But it did not take long for the sweetness of your kiss to turn into the bitterness of the realization. Your love was doomed to perish from its conception. The celebration of Finrod’s reciprocity to your affection was dulled by a growing ache of the truth that he was not yours. You had known it. The King of Nargothrond had a lover waiting back in the blessed lands.

You pulled away from him. Your hands slipped off from his curls. Your heart had protested every single movement that took you away from him. You ached to be closer despite the abyss of truth between you and him.

However, more painfull the look of horror on Finrod’s face or how he had stormed off leaving you alone. It was a rejection that came with the broken hope of acceptance.

For weeks you did not see him. Those felt the heaviest of your mortal life. So, you busied yourself in finishing your work during the days and blacked out drunk at night. But even a glimpse of him seemed to evade you.

Bundling your misery into the fevor of finishing your labor, you stained your hands with ink. There wasn’t much that you could offer him but your absence. Then so be it. Finrod would never have to remember you or the insignificant kiss that centuries could bury into a forgotten memory.

You were ready to give him the present of your absence, until he showed up. Just the sight of him had deluded your mind into thinking perhaps…he too felt something.

But the Finrod who returned was different. He returned with an oblivion to whatever had transpired between you both. As all your heartache was a construct of your own making. For a fleeting moment you believed it.

He greeted you with a warm smile, the same smile that once marked the beginning of your friendship to him. It was as if the pages of time had turned, erasing the chapters of heartache and leaving only the ink of indifference.

"You seem to have been quite occupied in my absence," he remarked, glancing at the scattered parchments and ink-stained hands that bore witness to the agony you had poured into your work.

Your heart, which had dared to hope, now sank like a stone. The weight of his obliviousness pressed upon you, and you realized that the love that had gripped your soul had failed to leave a lasting mark on his memory.

With a forced smile, you replied, "Yes, I've been immersed in my tasks. A distraction, if you will." The bitterness of those words hung in the air, a subtle reminder of the wounds that refused to heal.

He could have fooled you, if not for the foreign distance that loomed between you both. Opting for the seat farthest from you, he did not pour over your work like he always did. He still laughed and rambled passionately about the characters of ancient legends but it was contained. It was King of Nargothrond not Finrod you had to yourself for a second of your life.

You played along the role he assigned you. A friend, a coworker, nothing more. It was better this way.

The distancing should have stirred anger within you, should have humiliated your pride, but instead, it became a silent torment that gnawed at your soul. Nights were spent in solitude, your mind spinning with futile thoughts of how to bridge the gap, how to reclaim the love that had slipped through your fingers.

In the quiet moments, when the world slept, your heart wrestled with the demons of longing. You crafted scenarios in your mind, scenarios where the King of Nargothrond melted away, and Finrod, with the sparkle in his eyes and the warmth in his smile, returned to you.

Perhaps his cruelty would have harderened your heart. Stripped you of irrsupressable longing had the slivers of his own desire not slipped into your meeting with him.

Finrod was subtle in his desperation, a master at concealing the traces of his own desire. A mere mortal might not have detected the nuances, the subtle shifts in his gaze, the hesitation in his voice, or the way his fingers lingered on the pages of your work. But your heart, fueled by its own yearning, became a relentless seeker of any sign, any glimmer of reciprocation.

The unexpected errands, the discussions about tea, the orchestrated crossings of your paths—each encounter with Finrod seemed to hold the promise of something more, yet every meeting left you with the bitter taste of a friendship that refused to evolve.

In a moment of desperate rebellion against the unending cycle of longing and unfulfilled desires, you threw yourself into the arms of a random stranger who happened to approach you during dinner. It was a bold move, driven by the need to sever the invisible threads that bound you to the King of Nargothrond.

You felt his eyes on you, a gaze that had become a constant presence in your life. The decision to embrace the arms of another was not driven by the desire for a new connection but rather a desperate attempt to shake Finrod from his silent yearning. It was a calculated move, a ploy to force him to confront the reality of your actions.

As the stranger engaged you in conversation, you played along, allowing the charade to unfold. Finrod's gaze, once filled with a subtle longing, now bore witness to a scene that shattered the illusion of exclusivity. It was a painful spectacle, a dagger aimed at the heart of a love that had become entangled in a web of unspoken words.

You wrapped your arms around the stranger whose name felt awkward on your tongue. You let the man whisper filth in your ears. Words that could have been loud enough for Finrod to hear. You let his hands roam all over you. And then while you could still feel Finrod’s gaze glaring at you, you led the man to your room.

You spent the night with him breaking all and every chance of ever attaining love you desired the most. Even as the man held your body, kissed your lips, you could not help but wonder how he, the one you love, would have done it.

Finrod would have been more gentle, he would have never degraded you with the speech the man used taking you for an easy catch. He would perhaps have held you hand. But you don’t know. You will never know.

The tears that flow down your face that night are not of pleasure but of sorrow. Even as your body trembles with pleasure, your heart feels nothing but the pain of the hurt you have caused him.

After kicking out the stranger from your room, you lay back down on the sweat soaked sheets that smelled nothing like what you had once hoped for.

You made the choice for him. You have surrendered to the fair elleth who waits for your beloved seas apart. The fates have played as they were set to do. He will be happier next to her, you tell yourself. He had to be.

Someone out of you both had to find joy. It had to be him.

In the final moments of Finrod's breath, his eyes remained fixed on you. There, right beside him, you kissed his wounds with gentle lips, a tender gesture in the face of impending darkness.

"You are one stubborn elf, Nom," you chuckled, your arms wrapping around him. In this moment, nothing held you back from him. In the passing moments of death, you could love him freely, even if only as a figment in his mind.

“I love you,” he whispered aloud, a confession that resonated through the darkness of Angband. Your kisses paused, surprise flickering in your eyes even within the dream. “I love you so much that I cannot stop. I tried,” tears streaked down his cheeks. “I tried not to love you. I stopped Aegnor, but I myself could not resist. I still love you very much.” Ages worth of grievances and confessions spilled from his lips.

You wiped away his tears with hands that still held the fragrance of ink and paper. “I love you, Finrod. There is no other reason for my existence but to love you,” you spoke, tilting his chin to kiss him once more. “All my actions, all my motivations have been for nothing but you.” He knew it better than anyone.

He had known it, and the knowledge cut deeper than any wound. His inability to act on his feelings had led you to make a choice, a choice to bow to a man you never loved.

Bleeding out on the freezing ground, Finrod, the firstborn of Arafinwe, dreamed not of Valinor, his siblings, his parents on nether shores, or of Amarie as you both had wished. His dreams were of you. In those dreams, Finrod leaned into the warmth of your hands, which seemed to numb his pain and replace it with the thrumming pleasure of your touch. In those dreams, he could finally love you without the constraints of the waking world.

#the silmarillion #silmarillion x reader #finrod x reader #finrod felagund #bro angst #unrequited love #oomph

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jamminvroomvroom · 1 year

Text

on the weekends.

gr x fem!reader

finally done with the george win smut! sorry it took ages but we made it lol - mentally i am still in brazil. lemme know what you think ily ily ily!!

btw this is not linked to the george fic, this is a standalone! dedicating this one to @wetforwolff and @lovely-leclerc - you asked, you shall receive <3

warnings: 18+!! it’s smut!! bit of fluff, bit of angst, language, alcohol

3.5k words

you’d anticipated this day for as long as you’d known george. he looked like a winner, walked like a winner, talked like a winner. he fucked you like one, too.

back when you were just getting toto his coffee and george was making powerpoints, you knew this day would come. when you were taking on a bigger role and he was dragging the williams into q3, you knew this day would come. when you were finally at the top of the job ladder, draped in merc team kit in the garage every weekend and he was pulling a top five out of the bag every single time he got in the car, you knew this day would come.

you’d been stood in the back of the garage biting your nails, trying not to draw attention to yourself and your nerves. the humidity drove you insane, but not as much as he did. no one needed to know just how close you and george could get after a long weekend, and now wasn’t the time to publicise it. toto was back at the factory, leaving you exposed; usually you’d hide behind him when things heated up on track. you weren’t supposed to care which merc brought it home p1. a win was a win, a one-two was a one-two, and lewis was on the hunt. fair game. you knew you were fucked when you prayed that car number sixty three would come out on top. you knew it was foolish and selfish but a celebratory night in the sheets boded better than a consolation fuck.

a mercedes one-two and a meltdown at redbull rounded off your weekend perfectly. george had done it, just like you knew he would. lewis had pulled off the recovery drive that added more flavour to his greatness. a perfect day in the office, realised by three trophies to tell the tale.

toto was blowing up your phone. you answered, trying to wade through the masses in parc ferme. you lingered by the scales, pressing the big green button on your phone, toto’s face filling the screen, aged by a lacklustre season, masked by the elation of triumph. you beamed as you rambled about data and upgrades and and told him that you’d try and find george. you didn’t need to look much further.

a large hand ghosted over your waist, a shiver running up your spine and back down again. you turned, breath hitching in your throat. he was breathtaking; sweating, blue eyes clouded red, veins prominent in his trembling hands. his hair was a mess, body shaking from the adrenaline and his smile was so wide, so emotional that you almost doubled over. you couldn’t help but stare at him, at the blood, sweat and tears that had made him great. beautiful bastard.

you very rarely felt small in the presence of a man. you refused to, taking up space was the key to survival in your line of work. but for once, you allowed yourself to shrink, to succumb to it, the size of george. the size of success. he looked different, powerful. your thighs clenched.

all he did was stare back at you, a telepathic communication pinging backwards and forwards.

he was going to ruin you, and you were going to let him.

“are you there? hello?” toto grumbled, too excited to be mad at your ignorance towards him.

“oh- um,” you fumbled, thrusting the phone towards george. “it’s for you.” you smiled. his fingers brushed yours in the midst of the transaction and you shivered again. “someone’s very proud of you.” you murmured, eyes never leaving his.

you let your tongue swipe your bottom lip, hoping he knew that amongst all the chaos, you weren’t just talking about toto. it was dangerous to be so obvious in public, you could do that later, on your knees. with toto harping away in the background, george’s eyes darkened; it was too much, the adrenaline and your double meanings. dark blue eyes mentally undressed you, glancing hungrily over your body, and you felt naked in parc ferme. maybe one day you’d let him fuck you in the garage, you thought. perhaps if he won a title.

“i’ll bet.” he mirrored your action and licked his lips, the quickest wink being thrown at you, the most carefree you allowed him to be in public, and he turned his attention to your boss, who was bellowing away like the world’s proudest dad.

tonight was the night. brazil never disappointed.

hours passed, the muggy afternoon blurring into the hazy night. the champagne flowed, as did a few tears, the man of the moment being carried around on anyones shoulders and hosed down with alcohol. the team had craved this, worked for it, earned it. it was a bit like your relationship with george, really.

you couldn’t take your eyes off him, your entire body tingling in anticipation for later. so when it was finally time to go, you tried to slip away, get back to the hotel as quickly as you could. but of course, nothing ever got past george. he was the right amount of tipsy to grab both of your hands in his, right there at the entrance of the hospitality suite, and insist that you just share his ride back. it was stupid, utterly reckless, but you were the right amount of tipsy to accept.

hands intertwined, you stared at each other some more, until someone cleared their throat and you were being ushered out into the exposure of the paddock.

he didn’t let go and you didn’t make him.

he didn’t leave you any time to go back to your hotel room, coaxing you easily straight back to his. the tension between you was suffocating, it had been all afternoon, but nothing beat the journey from the track back to his hotel.

you’d gotten stuck in traffic, just as you always did in são paulo, which sent hands wandering early, carefully hidden from the driver that had the misfortune of picking you up. he trailed his fingers from your knee and up, up, up, occasionally grazing the fabric of your panties. your thighs would snap shut every time he did, your face a flaming shade of red. you looked out the window with wide eyes, trying to mask the urge to roll your hips, and all he did was stare at you, a devilish grin spread across his face.

you’d hurried out of the car, stumbling into the hotel lobby. you both did your worst at pretending that you weren’t tipsy, straight faces wavering as his hand dipped too low on the small of your back. you gave in, foolish, letting yourself lean into his side, giggling up at him with your head rested against his shoulder. your were caught up in the moment, blindsided by lovesickness, as he guided you into the elevator.

your breathing shook, fingers balled up as you tried to resist the cliche make out session in the elevator. it’s as if he could read your mind, pulling one of your hands into his and intertwining your fingers. he didn’t take it any further, not yet, knowing that no matter what the pair of you may have wanted, there was a time and a place. both were rapidly approaching as the lift reached its destination and you were let loose into the corridor. suddenly, nothing was funny anymore. urgency takes over.

down the corridor, force the key into the slot, wait for the green light. your back is against the door the second it’s been slammed shut. you’re used to this, the sudden pounce of him. your relationship survived on stolen moments and hurried touches, rapid pleasure. it was intense and the need for more fuelled you both because once could never be enough. so when he kissed you, it was quick, carrying the force and speed of a race car. you found yourself realising that for once, there wasn’t a flight to catch, or someone just waiting to interrupt, and your hands flew to his face, taking control of the pace. you deepened the kiss, slowing him down and licking your way into his mouth.

he seemed to get the hint, and you felt the slow press of his body moulding against yours as your lips moved together, nice and deep. it was different. your heart grew about ten sizes, on the verge of exploding for him. you moved across the room in some kind of trance, floating to the bed. shoes were kicked off, merc embroidered shirts discarded in a painful reminder of a pile, unidentifiable fingers working in the darkness to undo his trousers, to tug down your skirt. in nothing but your underwear, you tumbled into bed.

you were a mess of touches in the dark, clambering on top of him, his hands finding your hips. he held you tight, close, encouraging the roll of your hips and you sunk into his body. you could make out his face in the dim light, his shadowy features contorting as he lost any remaining scrap of control.

you were on your back in a blink, kisses pressed to your sternum, over the lace of your bra, peppered down your navel. your panties were peeled off, flung behind him onto the floor, instantly forgotten. he’d been waiting to get between your legs all weekend, desperate for you after the sprint, forced to wait by the reality of your jobs. he couldn’t wait any longer, wouldn’t. he slung one of your legs over his shoulder, open mouthed kisses pressed from your knee, all the way down to your inner thigh, as his arm wound its way around your other leg, spreading you open.

he was ready to dive in when you pushed yourself up on your elbows, one hand reaching down to cup his jaw, making him look at you. his eyebrows furrowed, confused as to why you’d stopped him when he could see just how bad you needed him, the way you glistened for him becoming a familiar, welcomed sight.

“george,” you breathed, “supposed to be celebrating you.” all he did was smile at you, leaning in closer to where you were aching.

“couldn’t have done it without you, sweetheart.” and with that, he escaped your hold, licking a stripe through your folds.

you fell back into the sheets, eyes glazing over and quickly squeezing shut. george was messy with it, licking into your cunt with an enthusiasm that had you arching further and further into him. his large hands gripped harder on your thighs, tightening every time you moaned louder. his tongue swirled across your folds, alternating between long laps and featherlight flicks across your clit, the differing sensations having you embarrassingly close already.

“george, stop, i’m gonna cum. want you in me. please.” you begged, warning him of just how close you were to your undoing, desperate to feel him back on top of you.

he didn’t let up for a second, barely even acknowledged you. all he did was stare up at you, amused eyes twinkling through the darkness as he doubled his efforts. all of the sudden, you were numb with pleasure, writhing against the sheets. your fingers tangled in his hair, gripping at the dirty blonde locks so hard that it must of hurt, but just like everything else you threw at him, he seemed to be enjoying it, humming into your pussy as he helped you ride out your orgasm. it all felt too much, too overwhelming; you didn’t know whether to push him away or pull him even closer.

finally the pleasure began to subside, relief washing over you for barely a second before he was pushing two fingers through your folds. his tongue continued to curl against your clit as he slid his fingers inside you. you whined at the overstimulation, grinding your hips to meet his movements.

“george, i can’t-“ you started, panting, only to be cut off.

“you’re gonna keep coming for me, sweetheart. okay?” he told you bluntly, fingers working into you quickly. “do you know why? because i won.” he smirked, “i won and this is my reward.”

you could already feel your second orgasm building, his words along making you shake, his fingers hitting your spot each time with ease. you were dripping all over him, limp from the pleasure, desperate to cum just so that he’d put you out of your misery and fuck you.

“one more for me, yeah? one more, darling, and i’ll stop.” george murmured, thumb brushing over your clit, fingers beginning a deep grind into you.

“please, george.” you whined, eyes blurry with unshed tears.

he kept going, going, going, until you were shaking once more, seeing nothing but white, hips bucking wildly, uncontrollably. he had his mouth back on you, lips wrapped around your clit and his fingers buried inside of you, until he was sure that you were finished. you laid there lifeless, the aftershocks rocking your body while he licked his fingers clean. your mouth parted at the sight, eyes fluttering shut when you felt his lips working across your thigh, to the crease where your leg met your body, up, up, up, until he was hovering over you again.

your fingers interlocked at the nape of his neck, twisting in his hair to pull him close. he kissed you, ferocious, pulling your thigh over his hip to line himself up with your entrance. your mouths fell open as he slipped inside of you, broken moans tumbling from your lips and into his mouth. you could hear his breath stuttering as he sunk deeper and deeper into you, until his hips hit yours.

“how does that feel, darling? being fucked by the race winner?” george groaned lowly, lips skimming the shell of your ear as he spoke. you tightened around him inadvertently, feeling a rush of wetness at his words.

“so good, you’re so good.” you whimpered, absolutely pathetic beneath him. all you could do was give in, let him have his way with you. it’s what you both needed.

“i know, love. i know.” he muttered, his arrogance as he fucked into you making you weaker and weaker. it was obscene, the way his behaviour was such a turn on to you. if any other man dared to speak that way, so unsubtly cocky, you’d roll your eyes and find the nearest exit. but for some reason, when george did it, you were ready to fall to your knees; you got off on seeing him succeed.

“you feel like fucking heaven.” george sighed, teeth sinking into your shoulder as he slammed into you, rhythm never faltering, hard and deep into your dripping cunt. “all i could think about in the car when i crossed that line was you. knew you’d be soaked for me, darling,” he whispered. “knew it as soon as i saw you after the race, had that look like you were just waiting to be fucked. i would have done it right there, you know, in the middle of parc fucking fermé.”

you cried out, body shuddering at his admission, completely boneless on the bed as he rocked into you. you knew you were close, urgently approaching your orgasm, wanting to get him there too. you could tell he was getting closer to his end, breathing getting heavier, thrusts getting slightly more frantic.

“come on george, want you to cum for me. need it.” you pleaded, nails raking over his scalp and down across his shoulder blades, digging in to leave red tracks down his back. you could feel him tensing under your touch, chest to chest, breath mingling as he pulled away from your neck to look at you. to really, properly, look at you.

something happened, then, that you couldn’t quite grasp. it happened all at once, something changing in his eyes that you knew was mirrored in your own, something that you couldn’t articulate, that you’d never let him see before. you didn’t know if he was feeling it for the first time, or if he was like you, too scared of reality to let it slip through. as quickly as it happened, you were squeezing your eyes shut, overwhelmed by the pleasure of having him on top of you, your legs tightening around his waist, trapping him against you.

you fell apart, levitating somewhere above the clouds, seeing nothing but white. the only thing that brought you out of it, back to life again, was the feeling of his weight crashing down on top of you, not a millimetre between your slick bodies. the groan he let out was carnal, utterly delirious as he came down from his high.

when he kissed you after, making no effort to get off of you, you let yourself have hope for the first time ever.

afterwards, it was quiet. it usually was between you. sometimes there was only time for the quiet moments, no time for whispers across pillows or to be held in his arms. tonight there was time. you could hear his breath slowing, you own heartbeat still ringing in your ears. next, there was the crumpling of the sheets as he turned towards you.

you were laying on your side, facing away from him. you needed these moments after to compose yourself, to take it all in before it was over again, until the next time. his hand grazed your waist, down to where the duvet covered you, grabbing softly at your hip. you could feel his body heat, turning slowly to look up at him. he was resting on his forearm, fingers trailing over any bare skin he could find.

neither of you spoke yet, there was still no need. you curled into him as he laid himself back against the pillows, enveloped in his arms. your head rested on his chest, a sense of total calm settling over you. you dreaded these moments, because it always felt the same. he made you feel safe and warm and relaxed, and it was awful. it was especially awful when there was only one race left before he would disappear off on holiday, and then go back to his family, and you’d submerge yourself in christmas drinks in london and making sure that the w14 wasn’t as god awful.

then, you’d see him again in february wondering if he’d finally gotten a girlfriend, despite that inkling of hope, or if he was bored of your face every time he shut the door of a hotel suite. you were far too scared to broach either topic and somehow he always came back to you. what if he didn’t, though? what then? you’d never be allowed to enjoy him all the time because what if? what if? you were only allowed him on the weekends. he could only be yours on the weekends, when everyone else stopped paying attention. looks shared in the heat of the moment did nothing to change that.

“i meant what i said. couldn’t have done it without you, you know.” he broke the silence, and you were thankful that you didn’t have to do it.

you let his words sink in. you hadn’t been able to before, submerged too quickly into the white hot pleasure to form a coherent thought.

“it’s a team effort.” you whispered. you didn’t move to look up at him. you couldn’t bare it for some reason.

“no. that’s not what i mean.” his voice was somewhat even, only slightly laced with annoyance. george never liked having to over-explain himself, he was very good at making people understand the first time. apparently that had never quite translated to you, too much time spent second guessing him, and more importantly, yourself.

“what i’m trying to say is thank you. for everything. for believing in me.” he murmured, lips pressing against your hairline. his fingers found yours in the dark, lacing them together. “with you, it’s a different kind of team effort. always felt like you were on my side. when i was at williams, when i joined you at mercedes, you always had my back.”

you stayed silent, unsure of what this meant, words being spoken softly into the darkness. it was overwhelming, having him vocalise his gratitude to you, something he’d never really done before.

“always knew you’d do it.” you whispered, words fanning across his chest. it was all a bit too intimate, unfamiliar territory being explored for the first time.

he turned into you, your head no longer resting on his chest, the low visibility doing nothing to hide the desire in his eyes as he leaned in and kissed you. it was slow, soft, that feeling from before nagging at you as your naked bodies moulded together. one hand cupped his neck, the other still held tightly in his.

this never happened after. ever.

how long could it last? slow kisses turned into sleep, held tight against his chest as the night faded into the misery of monday morning, and the weekend was over.

we love an ambiguous ending lol

taglist

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i’ve removed any tags that weren’t working! pls let me know if you wanna be added to my taglist or removed! <3

#george russell #george russell x fem!reader #george russell smut #george russell fluff #george russell angst #george russell imagine #george russell oneshot #george russell x you #george russell fic #george russell writing #f1 smut #f1 fic #f1 fluff #f1 oneshot #f1 angst #f1 fics #f1 imagine

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